And What's Wrong With Having Two Dads, Again?
by RevengeOfTheNightmareSkittles
Summary: Exactly what it says. GotenXtrunks. Bulma's involved, obviously. She makes it so that Trunks and Goten can have biological children. Their oldest, James; their daughter, Mirai; and their youngest, Truten. This follows their 13 year old daughter as she struggles into teenage life and does her best to keep most of her secrets from her friends. Mentions Mpreg. OrangeStar Middle School
1. Chapter 1

In a high-tech looking laboratory, a scientist- if her lab coat was anything to judge by- with blue hair was bent over a rather unusual laptop. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, but her eyes were focused on a set of test tubes and wires connecting them. It looked like the set up from a horror flick, the god-awful kind from before they had CGI. If it weren't so pristine and neat, and the scientist not so dignified, you'd half-expect someone to shout, "IT'S ALIVE!"

One of the test tubes with a weird royal-purplish liquid was boiling softly. The scientist's eyes never deviated from it.

Just then, the laptop contraption let of a 'ping' and she looked down at it as if confused, like she hadn't realized she'd been typing.

"Huh." She muttered quietly before glancing back up. She moved over to it and bent down until her eyes were level, one hand reaching for something to her left. It closed around a medicine dropper full of a yellow-green mixture; she rose it up slowly, carefully, above the precious vial before…

Standing up abruptly. A worried look crossed her face and she looked around. What would cause her to don such a nervous expression out of the blue? Why'd she stand?

Her blue eyes filled with panic; she reached for the tube with the purple substance, yanking it out of its spindle-legged holder in the nick of time, for just a second afterwards a resounding _crash_ echoed from far away, shaking the entire room like an earthquake.

Bulma Briefs' mothering instincts: stronger than your average bears'. They kind of have to be.

"_Boys._" She sighed fondly, the annoyed set to her mouth dissolving into a small smile as she looked over her work and saw none of it ruined. Goten and Trunks were doing who knows what to pass the time while she worked and—come to think of it—were probably dragging a pint-sized Pan into it as well. No amount of years would make any Saiyan 'too old for trick-or-treating' (oh, their horrified expressions when they'd first heard of such a blasphemous concept as that, "Too old for free candy?") and the three terrors had been looking forwards to it ever since school started back. Well, college for the oldest monsters, she reasoned in afterthought.

Bulma spared a moment to sigh at the thought of having Saiyan blood—to be able to eat anything you want as a teenager and gain _none of it_!—before setting back to her experiment.

She set the test tube back into its proper place carefully; slowly, ever so slowly, she allowed a single drop of the lime whatsit to fall into the purple. Nothing happened.

"Damn it!" She cursed, but she was grinning, as if she enjoyed the challenge. This was the longest she'd ever spent working on something, barring the dragon radar—she was young then; it doesn't count—and she wanted to conquer it, not only for her sake. It was driving her up the wall! Six, nearly seven now, months of stretching her mind to its limit!

Vindictively, she grabbed the beaker nearest her—a large thing filled with some odd, sloshy red stuff—and emptied the worthless test tube's content into it. It frothed and, as she led it to the **HAZ WASTE?** [1] container in the corner bubbled to a familiar golden color.

She almost didn't notice; it was half an inch from leaving her hand before she jerked it up to her eyes with an almighty screech.

"Of course! The reactants needed—stabilizing—too easy—so blind" She seemed to talk to herself incredibly fast, realization dawning like an Antarctic sunrise on her face, babbling on the names of several chemicals no one's ever heard of.

"Mom! Mom- What is it? Are you okay?" A purple haired youth ran into the room in the strangest of outfits with—most questionable of all—a sheathed sword strapped to his back.

"I'm amazing! Go get your boyfriend! Trunks, I've finally cracked it!"

A expression of ultimate joy cracked across his features once the uncomprehending shock slid off, and he turned and left as suddenly as he ran in.

******Thirteen Years, Ten months and three days later.**

****Most new teenagers were awkward about their bodies, somewhat chubby for their metabolisms starting to slow down, and starting to rebel against her parents.

Mirai Chi-Chi Son wasn't. Her room looked like your average room—if you happened to be a somewhat dorky teenage boy. Marvel [2] posters were plastered to the walls, action figures graced surfaces, a mess of tangled wires and electronic devices plagued the area on the floor in front of her TV, which was admittedly large, flat and newish-looking.

She didn't look remotely like a teenage boy, though; the exact opposite, actually. She laid tangled in her Iron Man covers, curled up on one side, with nothing but a large t-shirt that should have been falling off of her on save for underwear.

Her hair, long and black, framed her pale face and pale lips and was messy on her pillow. Her features were definitely feminine, though no trace of make-up had ever marred her skin—she didn't need it. Her nose was small, but not tiny, and not a spot of acne had appeared on her face.

She was skinny, with barely any curves to speak of, but certainly not unattractive in her own right. Her smile was capable of lighting up a room should she graced it with it; her eyes a darkish blue when open. She was louder than quiet, more creative than kind and more like her father than her father.

That is to say, she'd inherited more of Trunks' smarts than Goten's cluelessness, thank _Dende._

And when she woke up, she'd groan and try to go back to sleep, not remembering it as the first day of school- until a purple haired monster with charcoal black eyes and no sense ran in to jump on her, yelling about breakfast.

Because things always were a little weird for Mirai Chi-Chi Son, growing up—not that being _this_ side of weird was always a terribly bad thing; not in her family.

**Wow. I really wrote it. And I **_**like**_** it! This is going to be **_**fun! **_**I should have done this in the first place, create my own character instead of turning Pan punk-goth. Though I like the idea of her being best friends with Trunks. So anyway. Yeah. I like it. Does anybody else? If anybody has grammar corrections or complaints feel free to critique and I'll edit.**

**Oh yeah:**

**[1] Haha get it? Haz Waste? Like, "Haz Cheezeburgerz?" but science. Nerd joke. Very unfunny. Get it? A shortening of "Hazardous Waste Materials" and "Do you have waste?" I thought it was lame enough to be funny, anyways.**

**[2] Okay, so I thought I'd make it clear in the introduction chapter, Marvel is real. And GT has happened, but I brought Piccolo back from HFIL. Because I can. Because this is fiction. Anyways, Marvel is real because I have a small (impossibly huge) Marvel obsession. Wait—not Marvel is real as in the Marvel characters are real, this isn't a cross-over! Marvel is real, as in, the Marvel comics are sold in my DBZ version. Haha.**

**Anyways, off to write chapter 2! **


	2. 2 Chapters in 1! Extremely Long for it

"Sis! Sis, it's school-time, Sis!"

**Flump.**

"Trunks!" A pale arm stretches out from under the blankets and fires off a small blat. Her little brother goes flying backward out of the open door, hitting the wall across from it. He bounces back.

Of course he bounces back; he always bounces back.

"James! James, it's school-time, James!" The pitter-patter of too-hyperactive footsteps down the hall echo.

Wait, school?

Mirai blinks once before throwing back the covers and jumping out of bed.

"Crap! School!" And then it's a rush to get clothes on, to brush her teeth, to find socks. She shouldn't have been able to hear the deep _groan_ from next door, but of course she does anyway. The _thunk_ of Truten hitting the wall again would have been heard by a human, however.

Mira grinned as her brother's Ki went back down.

"James, we've got school today!" She called, pausing in the action of tugging on her jeans.

"FUCK!" She heard him curse.

"Language!" Their father shouted from down stairs.

"Sorry!" Her big brother calls back, but it's muffled, probably from the shirt he's dragging over his head.

**(I'm switching to first person point of view here now that they're all introduced; don't kill me)**

"Are you up yet? Are you up yet?" Trunks's back at my doorway and this time I look at him: hair a darker shade of purple than our dad's and our father's eyes dominate his young features. Granny always jokes about him being Trunks reincarnated with Goten's personality.

"Yeah, squirt, I'll be down in a minute." That sends him skipping off cheerfully, not a bruise on him or a tear in his gi—none of us went to school until we were eight or nine, just to be sure we could control ourselves—from the usual pre-school energy blasts.

"Don't eat it all!" James calls as our kid-brother hits the stairs.

"Like I was gunna!" The brat calls back and there's no mistaking the sullen hint to his tone.

I risk a glance as the clock—still ten minutes left before we need to leave. I hurry out to get the bathroom before James beats me to it, dragging a tooth-brush into my mouth and a brush through my hair at the same time. I'm out in record time, stopping long enough to spare a look in the mirror—

Wide, eccentric blue eyes look back, accented like my skin by the veil of dark hair, flying over my shoulder as I turn back a little to see. A dark blue CC shirt, jeans accompanied with a black belt; still as skinny as I was when I did this last year.

I pull open the door just as James is about to knock.

There's a few seconds of eye contact, blue to blue—only Truten (Trunks Goten Briefs) got our father's eyes—and a mutual once over to see what each other are wearing to school, taking in the changes that a year has wrought.

James has messy black hair, not wildly spiky like Grandpa's was in pictures but messy nevertheless, that hangs half in his eyes and down past his chin, the same pale skin as I do though he's outside a lot more than me and is currently shirtless because he's a lazy bum.

"Nice shirt." He comments, voice more low than high, but only just. I look down and instantly get the irony; I'm wearing one of his old shirts and he's not.

"Finders, keepers." I grin, moving past him. He reaches out an arm to keep the door open over my head and I'm back to tearing apart my room for the search of a single sock. Granted, it wasn't spotless to begin with.

"Why don't the guys that I know have abs like that?" It's a mutter under my breath, but James still hears and laughs from the bathroom as I'm tying on my boots. The weight of them is odd and familiar at the same time as I lower my foot.

"Because they're not me!" Egomaniac. All I've done is make his head bigger, and here it had only deflated a year ago.

"Five minutes!" Father calls up. I do a quick time check—crap, he's right—and drag on a hoody, also James', before running out of my room. Three seconds after I hit the stairs I'm running back, past James, who grins, because I forgot my backpack.

I'm just lucky I packed it last night; if I hadn't, I'd be half-starved by the time I got to school.

Father's got an apron tied on and is standing rather menacingly with a spatula. I'm not fooled; his dark eyes are laughing as usual. Truten's in dad's lap, yammering excitedly about who knows what.

"Hey dad, dad." I laugh, sitting down next to James and making my plates.

"Seventh and tenth grade, huh?" Dad looks up to meet father's eyes. "I remember being sixteen." He's smirking and father coughs on his eggs.

"Yeah, but there's a seven year old in your lap! Shut up about it!"

"Daddy, what happened when you and Papa were sixty?" Large, dark eyes rounded on him and James and I almost choked with laughter.

"Absolutely nothing." Dad responded instantly, reaching up to brush the lavender out of his face.

James snorts from beside me and I try to turn a laugh into a cough.

Both of them look towards us and Father opens his mouth like he's going to break open the sex-ed speech.

"And you two—"

"Whoops, gotta go!" James announces, standing up and downing the last of his juice.

"Yeah, can't be late to school!" I almost trip in my haste, yanking my bag off the back of my chair and beating my brother out of the kitchen. We're out the front door in a nanosecond, but don't close it in time to avoid hearing Dad's laughter and Truten's innocent, "What just happened?"

We live exactly 16.49 miles from Capsule Corp in West City, but thanks to Uncle Gohan and Aunt Videl, James ended up going to OHSH and our dads sent me behind him, no matter how far away.

"Race ya?" James asks, challenge obvious. His eyes glint, a little lighter than mine, a half second before he takes off with a white aura surrounding him.

"That's cheating!" I yell after him, yanking my ki up and blasting off after him. The wind in my face is amazing as always, and—as always—James is a hair faster than me even when he lets me catch up to him.

The city gives way to forests as we fly above it, and more towns and cities as we pass. I don't think any of our parents or grandparents quite realized how far away West City is from Satan City. It was five hours by car to get there for Uncle Gohan when he was our age, and we live three times as far away! Insane.

But I've gotten used to it over the years and the flight is relaxing. When I was a kid, flying was so second nature to me—I'd been doing it since I was too young to remember learning how—that I didn't believe James when he told me I'd fall if I just pretended to be normal.

Pretending to be normal had, at the time, meant acting like I did at school. Which translated to never, ever using my Ki. So like the naïve kid I'd been, I locked up my energy nice and tight in the secret place in me no one else could ever go…

I dropped like a rock, of course, and had to re-learn _intentionally_ pulling out the energy and consciously manipulating it. It's… I have no comparison. Luckily—or unluckily for James—we were only a few miles out and a blonde version of my dad caught me before I hit the ground. Super Saiyans—that was the first time I'd seen either of them transform, though I'd recognized his energy signature immediately and didn't struggle—move _that_ much faster than we do.

The sun was barely over the horizon when we got half way there and I was bored for once. James and I had, by silent mutual agreement, decided to slow down. The super-powered equivalent of sprinting nearly two thousand miles is ridiculous, but we were still racing. If I tried to slyly power up and get ahead, he'd kick it up a notch as well, the attentive bastard.

After a while, I kind of just thought, 'Screw it' and rolled onto my back with my hands behind my head. It was easier this way—with our turtle speed, my hair was flying in my mouth instead of getting whipped back by the wind resistance.

"What time is it?" I asked after a while of kicking back like this.

"Skin-thirty!"

"Not funny! I can check my SIM [1] if you're going to be such a douche about it."

"Nah, don't bother, it's 7:23. Look, we're passing over the city now!"

Not for the first time, I wondered if anybody down there looked up and thought, "Holy crap, flying kids!"

It caused me to snort quietly, which my brother ignored, used to my 'weirdness'.

"Do you have baseball after school?" We were getting closer to the half-way point between our schools, the usual place for our touch-down, and we can't leave to go home unless it's together because I'm 'too young'. Uncle Gohan fought _Cell_ when he was younger than me, he went to _Namek._

"_And you can go to Namek whenever you want as long as you don't miss school for it!" Father had chuckled cheerfully._

"_But you can't come home without your brother." Dad finished and they kissed sickeningly to get the point across and make me leave the room._

"Yeah, don't wait up, though; I've got a date afterward."

"You inconsiderate bastard! Don't jut spring crap like this on me, what would you do if I didn't have plans?" He shot me an incredulous look, black hair whipping across his forehead.

"I refuse to ask permission to have a social life!"

"I don't expect you to ask permission! A little notice would be nice, though!" He started to protest, but my logic got to him. His eyes softened as he realized my position and that it wasn't my fault in the slightest. He'd be mad too.

"Sorry. I should've told you. You got anything to do?" He was back in big brother mode.

I glared.

"Yeah, I'll go find a spar, and then catch an early movie with Storm and Alex, or something."

"Don't go see _Shenron's Revenge_." James warned instantly and I had to snicker.

"You're taking her to a _movie!_" And not just any movie, a slasher movie? I thought you had more class than that, bro.

He reads the thought in my face and scowls, but the smirk picks back up immediately.

"Who says it's a 'her'?"

I open my mouth to retaliate and then close it.

"I got nothing."

"I know. That's what I thought." We're getting closer now, only a minute or two away. I realize this will be my last chance to use any energy today—both of the ways energy can be used—until school lets out. I kick up the output, letting it flare around me and do a few flips in the air to get it out of my system.

James touches down while I do, sends up an 'I win!' after me, because he knows I forgot about the stupid race.

I ignore him and shoot up as high as I can without hitting the clouds to avoid soaking my clothes and for a second the entire universe is my playground, I can go in any direction I want in water, air or on the ground with a thought.

And then I drop down softly, one foot and then the other, and take a boring stroll to school with—I check my SIM- eleven minutes left. It's only Seven thirty-four and the bell rings at the ¾ of an hour mark.

I look up at Orange Star Middle school with, if not slight trepidation, than curiosity. Last year, one of my best friends, Storm, was forced by her mom to attend Satan City private school, the other middle school here. Alexandria, who lives closer to the public school and who's rather financially challenged, was forced to go to OSMS. I could go to either one.

I couldn't choose. I got "Home Schooled" by Grandma for a year, so we were all miserable instead of just one of us. Well, I wasn't miserable; Grandma taught me some really cool things. A lot of tips on inventing and your basic scientific gobbledygook, but I can build a GR from scratch now. Vegeta doesn't know; I'm keeping it that way.

I pull open the main doors to the building and step inside…It's cool and refreshing and smells like books and Uncle Gohan. There's an overkill of the school colors and pictures of my—is Hercule my Grandfather or great uncle or what? I always call him 'Gramps' but… What do you call your uncle's father-in-law?—Gramps, I guess, lining the walls even though the school never changed its name like the city did.

I make it about three steps into the cafeteria before there is an almighty squealing noise and I can't breathe. I'll be honest; my first instinct was to fight my way free. However, I remembered my surroundings and took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of spaghetti and sage and new apartment. Alexandria.

I open the eyes I hadn't realized I'd shut to confirm it: Yup. The first thing I see is red. Red everywhere, the color of wine in sunlight. No one else can achieve that color without thousands of products.

A constant, unbroken stream of sound is at my ear. Belatedly, I register that she's been jabbering this entire time; about what, I haven't the slightest. Where's-?

"Let her breathe, Al." A cool, amused voice. The voice of reason in many a situation. I look past the red head pulling away from me. She's standing casually; of course, blonde hair grown longer since I last saw it.

"Hey." My voice sounds soft, but happy. "It's been too long." Something passes between us when I meet her grey eyes, a sense of urgency. It's drowned out immediately, by a weird sense of… timelessness. We're not in a hurry. We have all the time in the world to talk and re-know each other. Endless time, endless patience….

"I know, right! It's been _forever._"

…. That only applies to the two of us. I love Alex; really, I do. She's just a whir of action and impatience that'll drive me up the wall if I let it. I padlock the doors to my energy, making sure every trace is locked away. I force myself to believe it.

No matter what, I am human for the next eight hours.

I smile at my human friends, go through the breakfast line to eat my human breakfast, fall idly into the realm of human chatter and pretend—for just a little less than eight hours now—that I'm nothing more and nothing less than absolutely ordinary.

When really, I'm anything but.

**[1] SIM. Holographic Image Communication Simulator. I almost called it Capsule Caller, but it sounded cheesy. I guess it could always be an abbreviation for Super/Saiyan? Instant Messenger but I hate that. I'd rather call it a SIM. **

**So, anyway. I request comments, concerns, confusion or condemnation in the form of a review so that I can try to make this story better.**

**Truten is their little brother Trunks Goten Briefs, Called Truten to avoid name confusion. They call Trunks their Dad and Goten their Father to differentiate.**

**For a look at the characters you can go to **

** undyingseclusion . deviantart art / And-What-s-Wrong-With-Having-Two-Dads-Again- 306426754**

**Just take out the spaces.**


	3. Over 3000 words in this one!

Classroom 306.

Only Alexandria knew where anything was, of course. Storm had been slaving her days away at Satan High—and Dende, do I not envy her, not with Gramps for the school mascot—and myself tucked away in the Z-fighter corner of the universe at Capsule Corp.

Storm and I exchanged wary glances behind the redhead's back as she led us through the halls. While we love her very much, Alex is not the most reliable. I prefer martial arts—not that either of them know that—and comics, Storm prefers turn-of-_last_-century novels and gymnastics (as odd as that may be), but Alex…. Well, Alex signs up for four sports at a time; she loves to talk about boys and spends all of her free time partying or gossiping.

Not exactly orthodox, but what can you do?

The three of us mesh well together, somehow. I've never questioned it much; it just sets my head spinning in confused circles.

"I can't believe we all have homeroom [1] together, isn't it great?"

"What subject is it?" I asked, her question having knocked me from my thoughts rather bluntly. I never got past the initial, "What? We have _seven classes every day!_" to actually see the order in which the seven subjects were lined up in.

"Wow, really? Without me, you'd probably never get anything done?" She laughed a little. Storm remained silent, gazing at the walls with a sort of detached remoteness, like she was trying to remember every detail. "It's History first."

All my nervous apprehension melted faster than crayons left out in the sun at Korin's. It was replaced rather sickeningly with equal measures dread and annoyance.

I know what kind of history Orange Star schools teach—I got it first hand from my aunt and uncle, and just that telling is torture enough. Distantly, as we entered the classroom, I wondered if they'd still be going on about the Cell Games and the 'Champ'.

We took our seats on the farthest row of desks from the door, Alex in front of me in front of Storm. Our teacher was the last to walk through the door, shortly before the tardy bell rang. He had graying blond hair, tired blue eyes and laugh lines.

I thought that boded well for us—until about five minutes into the lesson. It wasn't that he… I mean, he wasn't a bad teacher, or mean or anything, but… I hadn't thought there could be anything worse than a devout Hercule Satan fan.

Oh, how wrong I was. There was something worse for me, just one thing, and my homeroom teacher had somehow found it before I even realized it existed: A hard core Son Goku fan.

One that promised to ruin me, too. He knew things no human besides Yamcha, Krillin and Tein should know: fighting styles thrown into mockery since the insufferable Hercule had come to power, histories long forgotten, martial arts techniques lost to time, alien sightings and landings I didn't have to be present at to remember.

It's actually very lucky that I chose to sit in _front_ of Storm. Perceptive as she is, I've no doubt she'd note the slow way in which my eyes widened in horror. For the first time in my life, I wished I'd taken my dad's last name instead of my fathers. Surely, a life time of living up to the Capsule Corps lineage couldn't be worse than having all of my secrets exposed due to _my last name_.

I let out a breath of false relief when he didn't go through the roster immediately; I tried to tell myself he'd forgotten to call attendance. My mind whirred through a thousand and one different ways to quit school, to get out of this class—a hundred impossible fixes to the situation flashed before my eyes, each more improbable than the last. Only when I got around to seriously considering faking my own death did I realize how ridiculous this was getting.

My Son courage welled up from somewhere deep inside me to combat the human cowardice. How can I even consider running away? Gohan didn't run away! Neither of my dads ran away!

… James didn't run away, and he _must_ have taken this class!

Oh, well that settles it then. I can't run away. Not if James didn't. It didn't occur to me to be amused at how our Sibling Rivalry was strong enough to make me go through my own idea of personal HFIL without so much as a grimace. In hindsight, I wonder if that's the Kakarott/Vegeta blood mix, one coming out stronger in each of us to make sure we're always at odds.

Probably. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to mix the two. Ah well, too late now.

I forced myself to take a deep breath, only then noticing that I hadn't been breathing. Nobody noticed me spacing out, especially not Mr. Jernigan, who was still going off on his counter-rant to Gramps' 'Lights and Tricks' rant, going into detail about Ki-based techniques that any dunderhead ought to know about.

I winced every single time he used the name 'Son Goku' though he did so with reverence each time, like he was talking to a lover. Which… No, I'm wincing not because it's creepy, but because I'm nervous as HFIL. Every 'Son' he utters makes me about jump out of my skin; I'm so irrationally sure that he's called on me, somehow _knowing._

"And that's my view on _that_. If you have any objections, please, feel free to stand up and leave my classroom right now." No one said anything, though a few students shifted uncomfortably in their desks.

"Right then. I'd like to get to know you all as well. Please take out a blank sheet of notebook paper and write down three lies and two truths about yourself." And he grinned and took his seat, the lecture abruptly over.

It was so sudden and unexpected that there was a small moment of silence before the mass sounds of ruffling and digging through bags could be heard. Almost tentatively, a whisper broke out. When Mr. Jernigan said nothing, the class figured out that it was apparently okay to talk and did so in hushed voices.

My friends had yet to comment and I was still to rattled to start a conversation, so I got out a pencil and the aforementioned sheet of paper and just stared at it blankly for three minutes.

"I know, I can't think of anything either." Storm's voice at my ear gave me a small heart attack. I jumped in surprise, turning faster than I should have at school. My desk hindered me, made the motion look human. I was facing her with a shocked expression; luckily, she laughed.

I parroted her, hoping she either wouldn't catch the forced quality of it or would choose to ignore it if she did.

"Sorry, I was far away trying to sum up my life in two truths." I rubbed the back of my neck in a habitually nervous gesture—her eyes zeroed in on it instantly, but she chose not to comment and for that I breathed out a silent breath of relief. Thank you, Dende.

"I know." She let her eyes fall onto her own paper before looking up and smirking. "Hmm, what to lie about. I want to have some fun with this one." Oh dear.

Suddenly, the mischief in her grey eyes was replaced with something similar to 'Eureka!' and she bent down to write quickly before she could forget it.

I tilted my head a little to read it upside-down.

_My name is Elizabeth Storm but almost everybody addresses me by my surname._

_My favorite color is yellow._

_My two closest friends and I are—SURPRISE—going to the Tenkaichi Budokai this fall._

_I am pro-unicorn._

_Never in my life have I seriously considered strangling Alexandria Shiver._

Huh. I blinked.

"I didn't know your favorite color was yellow!" I accused before I could stop myself.

Storm looked up from her neatly finished work, clearly surprised.

"What? It's not yellow!"

"But… But…" I ran through her list again, instantly marking off the three lies. But that means…

"You're going to the World Martial Arts Tournament!"

"Shh! Keep your voice down!" She hissed. "Yes, and so are you!"

There was no mistaking the smug tones in her voice, but she clearly mistook my panicked outrage for excitement. I felt numb. Slowly, I pivoted around and brought my pencil to the sheet of paper.

_My name is Mirai Chi-Chi Son. _Truth.

_I am a second-_Dan_ black belt. _Lie; I'm a third-_Dan_ black belt.

_I've never participated in a WMAT_—I had to go back and erase, forgetting not to use the casual abbreviation—_Worlds Martial Arts Tournament._ Truth; I've never had any interest in losing to James in the Junior Division.

_I think Mr. Jernigan is 100% wrong on Ki-Techniques and Hercule Satan being a fraud._ Another lie, of course; I _fly_ to school every morning, how could I call my own abilities tricks and light shows?

_Son Goku is my grandfather…_ Lie: He _was_ my grandfather. 'Is' implies present tense, which he _isn't_.

My hand moved across the paper like it belonged to someone else; possessed. I watched on like a Zombie, letting it rip new words into being in my untidy scrawl.

Alexandria looked back at me, but obviously didn't care about my paper.

"He's really barking, isn't he?" She asked, not quite whispering. I shrugged. She wouldn't really hear my answer anyways and it'd just start a fight between us if I disagreed with her.

'No,' I thought savagely. 'He's completely accurate and if you opened up your narrow-mind enough to actually consider his words the world would be a better place for it'. I said nothing.

"Yeah, I mean, Mr. Satan? Lie to _us?_ No way."

"I _know_ Hercule," I wanted to say, but didn't. "I _know_ he lied because my uncle Gohan was the one who beat Cell." I kept my mouth shut on the subject, offering her a weak smile that she seemed to buy.

"His own daughter, Videl Satan, went to this school; did you know?"

It's the first time Alex has boasted about her knowledge to me and I want to strangle her. The desire is so sudden and fierce I'm actually scared my self control will falter if I move a muscle. Of _course_ I knew that; she's my _aunt._

But I say nothing. The bell rings. Privately, I think I deserve a medal.

We all turn in our papers in a neat little box before filing out of the classroom in twos and threes.

I consult my schedule: I have Math next. I consult Storm's schedule; so does she. We both already know what classes Alex has. She drilled the knowledge into our skulls the moment we sat down at breakfast.

We parted, not saying a word, two of our number diverting down a different hallway.

I couldn't help it: I sighed the instant she was out of hearing range.

"I love her to _death_," I started in way of explanation—Storm cut me off with a burst of laughter.

"But you want to wrap your hands around her neck until her eyes bulge out. I know; I've been there." I shot her an incredulous look as we passed open door after open door, waiting to pass ours.

"What? Who do you think had to deal with her drama while you were homeschooled?"

I feel my lips twitch: homeschooled. Right. The only subjects I studied when I was 'homeschooled' would be "Rebuilding a Gravity Room from Scratch"; "Avoiding Aunt Bra When She Wants to Go Shopping"; and, "Saiyan History" (as taught by Professor Vegeta, renowned expert in the field).

"I'm sorry. My dads were kind of strict last year, is all." I felt bad for lying about them. They weren't strict at all. In fact, they even let me fly by myself a couple of times to Satan City so I could sleep over at Storm's house or watch a movie with Alex.

Storm gave me an odd look, but before she could comment room 401 came up. I checked my schedule to make sure I remembered right and walked inside. A breeze hit me almost instantly. If I'd been completely human, I'd have wanted a jacket. Behind me, Storm shivered.

"Dang, it's cold in here. What did you mean when you said—"

Whatever she was going to say was cut off. Like an oversized bird of prey, our teacher swooped down on us.

"You're blocking my door way." He announced in a frigid voice, full of distaste.

I blinked; it was true. We'd stopped right in the middle of it.

"Sorry, I didn't—"

"Take your seats! Your names are all inscribed on the corners." I jerked at the—well, he wasn't yelling, but his tone was the angriest I'd ever heard; and _that's_ saying something because, you know, Vegeta's my grandfather. And indeed, there were little white strips stuck to the upper-left corner of every desk, like there were when we were younger.

I bristled in indignation and opened my mouth to protest his rudeness when—

"Go!" He ordered. Storm's eyes widened and she took a step backwards. I didn't. How could I? Temper flaring, I took a step forwards, meeting his beady eyes. He had inky black hair, military cut, and no facial hair besides.

Those dark brown eyes narrowed on me instantly, daring me to protest. Oh, I'll protest all right and when I do—

A hand tugged me back. In my surprise, I went with it.

"Mira!" Storm hissed. "I've heard about this guy! You don't want to make an enemy of him, he's—"

The door slammed shut with an almighty bang an instance before the bell chimed, the echo of which bounced off the walls of the room with a dizzying sense of forebodance.

"My name is Tony Oliver. You will not call me this, however; you lot will address me as Mr. Oliver- Not Mr. T, not Mr. O, not Mr. Olli—_Mr. Oliver._"

Behind us, the class collectively gulped in fear of this harsh man.

"And if _you two_ would be so kind as to _sit down, _class could begin." I didn't glance around; it was obvious who he was talking to. The entire class was seated save for us.

I tore my arm free from Storm's and found my seat, sitting down in it furiously. My eyes never left Mr. _Oliver_. He doesn't scare me. Unless he's secretly harboring green skin and antennae and is an evil version of Piccolo in a human-suit, _he doesn't scare me._

Not the Piccolo would ever want to _teach_ of all godawful things. Scary.

He prattled on about Math and Numbers and Fractions; I didn't listen. I met his eyes with no fear, thinking as loudly as I could, "_My dad is Trunks Briefs: he taught me everything you know before I was five. My grandmother is Bulma Briefs: she taught me everything your math teacher knew before I hit ten years old. There is nothing you know that I do not, and if you get sick of not being able to outsmart me, the fifteen most powerful beings in the universe will be on you like Master Roshi on an uncensored, X-rated magazine._"

Tony Oliver only looked back at me once the entire class period and nothing has ever brought me more joy than his expression, at the moment, when he saw that I was smiling. We had a silent conversation with our eyes—muddy brown met livid blue.

He found someone unwilling to bend to his will and it really pissed him off. I hope he recognizes a challenge when he sees one—No, really. I do. Because I'm not going to lie down and let him walk all over me, mentally, emotionally or physically.

I'll out play him at every single turn.

I locked eyes with him when he looked at me and wished I had bothered to learn telepathy as a kid because I wanted to make _sure_ he got it.

**I. Am not. Afraid of you.**

The rebellious thoughts completely destroyed the normalcy I'd been working for, but they filled me with an almost superior feeling for the rest of the day. At lunch, Storm condemned me for my stupidity; I waved her off. The only other classes I had with her was Athletics which—like History and Science—I shared with Alex as well, so she couldn't badger me.

The day passed in a blur after lunch, so it was with complete surprise that I found myself walking out of the building at 3:19, blinking in the harsh sunlight.

I'd done it. I'd survived the first day.

Now, I only had to do it a couple hundred more times this year.

The thought almost made me groan, but nothing could kill the happiness that the day was _over_… except for the remembrance that it wasn't.

I didn't get to leave Satan City yet. James had a date. I had three more hours—_three whole hours!_—before I could go home and eat and collapse. Even without a mirror to witness it, I'm sure my face paled. I blanched at the prospect.

It seems I spoke to soon. I hadn't survived the entire day after all.

**Oh gods so many words. So many words. 3000 words. My hands hurt. I did all of this in about six hours or less. Ow. Oh dear gods. Somebody please review because seriously, this took effort and I want opinions. Anyways, dun dun dun. I'll probably go back and edit, but I want this updated. I worked hard on it. Anybody else dislike Mr. Oliver? What's his deal, anyways? Read to find out—that is, if I haven't given myself carpel tunnel syndrome.  
And WOAH—a teacher who likes Son goku instead of Hercule satan? Where did that come from? I have no idea. Storm's taking Alex and Mirai to the WMAT, which Mirai was going to watch anyways. Who will they meet there? Wouldn't you like to know.**

**[1] the only type of middle schooling I know of is American so we're all going to deal with it. There are seven forty-five minute classes and eight hour school days, Monday-Friday. The subjects are Math, Science, Language Arts, History, Elective, Athletics/P.E.  
I'm pretty sure Mirai's elective is going to be Art.**


	4. CARNIVAL DECIMATION

**James and Alexandria, both with sex-hair, walked up the slight hill to sit with us. Alexandria looked dizzy, but happy. James' black hair was even more tousled than usual—which is saying something, actually—and his blue eyes had an odd light, one I recognized.**

**Excitement. Adrenaline. Exhilaration.**

**He was almost glowing, his entire aura almost… charged, in a way.**

**It took me a second to realize what was off. What am I missing? Oh, crap.**

**My eyes widened. I shouldn't have been able to sense him coming. We're in Satan City—his Ki should be capped off, locked away where no one can find it. I looked up at my big brother and realized his eyes **_**did**_** look charged. Bright, bright blue like they were glowing from electricity.**

**And the energy level he was exhibiting wasn't going down, either.**

**Shit.**

**I jumped to my feet. Alexandria was talking—Storm was too, but their words fell on deaf ears. I reached for James' arm, but my hand fell through empty space. Shit, shit, shit.**

**He was standing a few feet away, smirking at me.**

"**You can't afterimage me in public!" I whisper shouted, nearing closer.**

"**And why can't I? My friends already know. I trust them enough to tell them." He didn't bother to lower his voice and a light wind was starting to pick up around him. He looked… slightly evil.**

**Is this the vibe Goku got when he met Raditz and Vegeta for the first time? I fought off a shudder.**

"**I'm **_**going**_** to tell them, just not—"**

"**Lie." His voice was stern, accusing. Not cold. Light, amused and damning. He was still grinning, but the smirk had taken on a pronounced air of insanity.**

**Fuck. He wasn't getting any more human and my instincts were screaming at me—I'm sure they were the human side, too, because they were yelling that he was dangerous. A little voice beside them was jumping up and down, monitoring his ki level with mounting apprehension.**

"**Shut **_**up.**_**" I hissed, clenching my fists in anger. The dam broke. My power level spiked, too. Still human, barely in the hundreds, but it scared me; I've never lost control like this before!**

**It felt good.**

_**No, no, no it doesn't! Put it allll back where it belongs!**_** The human side of me urged, frantic.**

**Where it **_**belongs?**_** My temper ratcheted up another notch at my own thoughts. There's nothing **_**wrong**_** with this, it's who I am!**

"**Who's going to make me? You? Little sister, you aren't Saiyan enough." He laughed, cold and cruel. My heart stuttered: this is not my brother. I don't know who this is, but he isn't my brother. And he didn't stop there. His hair lifted in the wind and for the first time in my life, I was truly afraid of him—it flashed, glowing golden for half an instance before he continued.**

"**How can you be? You, who've always denied who—**_**what **_**you are. You barely train and never in the Gravity Room. You try your hardest to be human and then want to take me on like your one of us?" The words hurt. I tried not to let them, letting the betrayal fuel my rage.**

"**You can't have it both ways." Soft now. His tone was soft, tinged with something I couldn't figure out. What's he…?**

**Pity. He pities me.**

_**Bang.**_

**A whirlwind erupted, a vortex. I'm not sure who started it, but one of our power levels sky rocketed and drug the other along with it for a ride. I was helpless to stop myself from participating in the dance; with horror, I realized I didn't **_**want**_** to.**

**This felt good.**

**I woke up, gasping and clutching at my covers, sweaty and shaking in bed. The lights were off: it was dark. I could barely breathe. My heartbeat was frantic in my chest and a sick sense of foreboding told me something horrible was going to happen.**

**In the throes of paranoia, I lie back down, still shaking. Finally, after what seemed a small eternity, I calmed down enough to sleep.**

**When I woke the next day, I remembered nothing.**

Hundreds of people were gathered in one space, the residents of Satan City culminating to the center of town with mixed feelings. Some came annoyed and others, excited, though there was a general feeling of happiness and joy as friends and families paid their way into the fair.

Bright, colorful banners cheerfully announced the name of this particular fair- CARNIVAL DECIMATION— and their sponsors listed below. However, hardly anyone noticed the name of the sponsors. After decades of Hercule Satan paying for everything, why should they notice the change? And for those who did notice, only a few of them had any curiosity for the small name beside the prestigious CAPSULE CORP. None of them had ever heard of such a thing as Kameha Martial Arts. And if they did—why should they care? It couldn't possibly be better than Satan Style!

"I still don't understand how you did that!" Alex gushed flirtatiously. I snuck a look sideways, and saw the mix of emotions on James face: pleased, in a smug sort of way that that would have a lesser male strutting around with his chest puffed out like a rooster; bemused, like he thought himself a god among the rest of us plebs—that reminds me; we really need to have a talk about his rapidly-approaching-Grandpa-Vegeta's-level superiority complex—and finally; decisively uncomfortable. His eye twitched once and I knew that, despite his ego, he wanted to be as far away from her as possible.

I really shouldn't find this so amusing.

"I mean, most people don't even _register_ on the High Striker! _You_ made the bell fly off!" She didn't even bother to hide the awe and suggestive hint to her voice.

To the right of both of them, Storm muffled a snort. I caught her eye and a similar thought danced between us. Something along the lines of, "How can she find a way to turn a carnival game into a turn on?"

But if anyone could do it, it'd be Alexandria. She's loyal to a T and beautiful, and almost never turns her red-head temper on her friends, but if she has one flaw…

She rubbed her magnanimous chest on his arm, about forcing herself on him in a way that was clearly meant to be sexy or sensual.

Dende, she's like a dog in heat! My poor brother. I met Storm's eyes again from around the two and she nodded, obviously coming to the same conclusion: we need to pull her off now, she's just embarrassing herself.

"Just, just wow! I've never even _met_ somebody so strong that they can _break_ strength-testers." He sent me a bitter, incredulous look and I almost choked on laughter. A memory drifted up—more a memory of a story, really, but a story told firsthand and with such visual descriptions that I felt like I'd really experienced it—swimming into focus. The 25th WMAT. The image of Grandpa Vegeta breaking the stupid little punching machine and making all the other participants (most of the other participants) squirm brought tears of laughter to my eyes; Luckily, I managed to pass it off as a cough.

We continued walking through the fair, three of our number mindful about walking into other people, each for unique and personal "personal space" issues. Vendors were all around us on this end of the carnival, all of them promoting weird and strange-smelling foods whose scents mixed and mingled disturbingly in the air. To James and I, our noses so much more sensitive than average humans, it was made all the more disgusting.

I leaned close and snorted.

"She'd flip if she knew I could have, too." My brother coughed, my humor catching him off guard; he doubled over, gasping for breath. Mirth swam like tears in his eyes, so similar to mine.

Storm knew her cue: when I'd distracted James, she immediately rushed in to seize our mutual friend's attention. I didn't catch what she said; it could have been anything from "Look, a distraction!" to "Over there: A kissing booth run by the football seniors!" All I saw was the blonde pointing in some obscure direction, an "Oh, really? In that direction you say? You wish for us to go over there, you say? And so we shall; yes, we shall," expression contorting the red-head's facial features.

Away they went, leaving me with a still-gasping, 5'9", sixteen-year-old, hunched over and looking to the entire world like he's dying. The world also saw his kid sister, standing there casually, shooting cold looks at all the curious and disapproving onlookers, daring them to say something.

"Any time, bro…" I muttered to him under my breath. Jeaze, it wasn't that funny, was it?

"Sorry," He laughed, righting himself _finally._ "Sorry, I just—Dende, her reaction to that! And even if it were you she was latched onto instead of me, oh, your face—"

At his words, I felt my scowl become more pronounced.

"That's not funny." I deadpanned, by my lips were twitching; that was hilarious. But if I admitted it was funny, we'd both be rolling around on the ground, and we're trying for 'normal human' over here.

"Come on, we're making a scene." I lowered my voice, curved a hand around his bicep, and _yanked._ He came willingly enough and nobody watching could tell that I was using enough force to pull down a rocket mid-launch nor he resisting better than a mountain could. In our defense, when set to scale, it was similar to a sister dragging a brother somewhere…

"Where did your crazy friends go?" He asked curiously, once I'd released him and we were walking once more through the throng of people. The crowd parted easily around us now, two walking together instead of four walking shoulder to shoulder. When they weren't thinking about it, many humans moved around us anyways; a subconscious instinct of self-preservation, like jumping when you get scared. It's not something they realize they're doing, but some long-ago instinct passed down through DNA bade them recognize us as predators.

Even if they didn't realize what they were doing, the Saiyan-princess in me liked the thought. I shook my head to dispel the notion.

"I don't know." A brief—ha ha, brief—pause, and then: "You haven't seen a kissing booth around here, have you?"

"_What?" _

"Nothing. Never mind. Where _did_ they run off to?" I stood on my tip-toes to try, in vain, to see them over the crowds.

James laughed at me.

"You're five-eight. I doubt the extra 'tip-toe' inch is going to do anything."

"Shut up! Not all of us can be natural-born giants, you know." I assured him matter-of-factly.

He scowled.

"You're an inch shorter than me!" His protest fell on deaf ears, however; I'd just spotted the tell-tale flash of red in the sea of colors, and—yes, just there, the dash of lightning-blonde.

"GUYS!" I bellowed without thinking. James winced, grabbing for his ears. I ignored him and the stream of muttering he started—"_Why_ did I agree to come along for this? A little warning next time! Oh great, back to the ginger leach"—under his breath, dragging him behind me as I moved through the crowd.

They slid from me like water off a duck's butt and just as smoothly. In no time at all, the two of us stood before my best friends. I was smiling like mad. Alex looked up in surprise.

"Oh, there you are! I wondered where you went!" Behind her, Storm rolled her eyes.

"It doesn't matter. So what do you guys want to ride? We bought the stupid bracelets [2]; we might as well get our money's worth."

It goes unspoken that James and I could buy the entire carnival—I don't even remember, half the time, that I have more money than god. Dende is real nice about it, though.

And so our onward trek began anew, this time taking us to the larger side of the fair: the one with rides and roller coasters. It was full-dark now. Street lamps glowed innocuously above us, drawing crowds of moths. The crowds got more animated, consisting now of more excited children and happy teens than sullen adults who don't want to be here.

"I want to go ride the Kamikaze!" Alex exclaimed, pointing at what was easily the largest attraction in the entire carnival. It looked like a double-sided, upside down T, with the cross of the 'T' being the seats for the passengers. I knew from experience that it would swing, faster and faster like a pendulum until it took all of the riders upside down over and over again.

James smirked, agreeing instantly; I seized up. They stopped walking a little ahead of me, turning back to see what was wrong.

Memories assailed me. I'd tried riding something like it once, in West City, when I was a kid. It hadn't ended well. The machine stopped while it was upside down: I'd screamed and froze up and forgot how to _breathe_, much less fly. I was trapped, buckled in and _trapped _in a metal cage, and I'd never gotten over my fear of closed spaces.

Alex and Storm were both watching me, both worried. I fiddled with the entrance button clipped to the belt loop on my jeans, unable to meet her eyes.

"What's wrong? We don't have to go if you don't want to…" The redhead trailed off selflessly. I blinked, assessed the situation and the disappointed hunch of her shoulders—she was serious. I looked at Storm and donned a completely fake smile.

"No, you guys go ahead. I think I ate too much to spin around!" I laughed a little, which was probably pushing it. "I'll wait here."

"You sure?" She bit her lip. Storm wasn't paying attention to us anymore, standing to the side and gazing at the not-quite black sky.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"I'm staying, too." Alex pouted at this. James' look of "Really?" that he'd been shooting me quickly shifted to alarmed.

"Okay." Alex sighed, reaching down to tug at the bottom of her black tee-shirt; she's crazy for not wearing a jacket, it's a week from Halloween and the autumn chill is certainly in the air, even for me. "Well, it's just you and me, cutie! Let's go!"

James' panicked expression made my day. We waited approximately three seconds before howling with laughter: that wasn't Alexandria embarrassing herself with a guy three years older than her. That was Alex torturing him on purpose, and I'm so proud of her.

We sobered up after a while and mutually decided to find a clear spot of grass to sit and wait on.

"So, what do you want to ride after they get done?" I kept my tone light, enjoying the casualness of the moment.

"I dunno. The _Spider_ looks pretty fun." I grin at that, though she can't see it; we're both lying on our backs and cloud watching, even though it's almost eight o'clock. The _Spider_ is a many-tentacled ride with eight 'legs' extending from the center. Each leg separates into two half-pods at the end, each designed for two people per pod. It's a seat with a bar—no walls or harnesses. 32 people can ride it at once: more, if they're kids and sitting three to a compartment.

The pod on the end of the legs spin around as the legs lift up and down and rotate at fast—but not crazy—speeds around the central point that they're all attached to. It's my favorite ride. James doesn't like it very much. He says there's no adrenaline in it, which I can understand; being an adrenaline junkie is a family trait. Everybody but aunt Bra and I love Roller Coasters, the faster and crazier the better.

We make small talks of rides we want to go on, chuckling on small jokes and comments that we pass back and forth. The wait drags on.

"Ugh, they need to hurry up! These infernally expensive bands only last until midnight and I want to hit _everything._" Finally, Storm couldn't take it any longer. She exploded. I blinked.

Infernally expensive? Guilt nagged at me, telling me that I should have found an excuse to get them all free passes. I should have come up with a story—winning a sweepstakes or something, getting first prize in a contest.

"How much did they cost last year?" I asked curiously, hoping she'd complain about the difference. Honestly, I didn't know how much they cost _this _year.

She game an odd look before contemplating.

"Oh, that's right. I forgot you weren't in town for the fair last year. Hmmm." She rolled over, propping herself up on her elbows. I imitated her, crossing my ankles.

"Let's see. This year's are [3!] 2385 Zeni… Last year's were 1985, I think. Either way, they're insane. Over 2000 Zeni for a little bit of paper?" I kept my gaze down, unwilling to acknowledge that 2000 wasn't a lot to me.

"Yeah." My voice was soft. She didn't notice. I tried to casually hide my left arm by folding my awkwardly.

Storm eyed the band on her wrist curiously, muttering about prices. Then she looked at mine.

"Why is yours different?" She asked immediately, lifting my wrist to eye level. I didn't resist, letting her drag my arm up. I knew that she wasn't being nosy; rather, this was her wanting to find out if they screwed me over and gave me a band that had already expired. I scoffed on the inside: hardly.

"_Mirai Son"_ She read, voice odd. I squirmed—if we'd been standing, I'd have shifted my weight from foot to foot. Storm held my arm tighter. Her grip felt ridiculously light; I had to stop moving entirely so I wouldn't break it on accident. "_Full-Carnival Access Pass, 3 days. Carnival Decimation—as sponsored by Capsule Corp and Kameha Dojo."_

Wide eyes bored into mine, accusing. I backtracked hastily.

"My dads started up a Martial Arts Dojo out of town; I've never really mentioned it because it's kind of embarrassing. Just a little gym all the way out in West City, not even relevant here. They're sponsoring the fair this year, since it's the only one not hosted officially by Gr—by Hercule Satan. It's a publicity thing." I said all of this very, very fast, almost stumbling over the words in the haste to expel them.

Silence for a few minutes, then:

"Your parents are martial artists?" I opened my mouth to respond to that and closed it almost instantly. Oh Dende, if she only knew. _Understatement of the century_, I thought. I wonder how she'll react when she googles it later and finds out just how 'little' and 'irrelevant' Kameha Dojo really is? Well, I guess it's better than her thinking I'm the next president of Capsule Corporation—Which, thankfully, will fall to James at the rate things are going.

"Yeah, you could say that." I try not to laugh. Her eyes narrow. Hopefully, she thinks I'm laughing because they're not _good_ martial artists: the lie of the century, of course, but what she doesn't know won't hurt me.

I turned around, immensely thankful.

"Hey, bro." I greeted.

James and Alexandria had finally turned up, their hair messy from the ride. James's eyes were light blue with electricity, his entire being radiating a charged aura. He looked exhilarated.

A slight chill stole down my spine. Why? The sudden déjà vu robbed me of my ability to speak for a moment. Luckily, Storm had me covered.

"You two have fun?" There was no mistaking the meaning of her sentence. Alex blushed. James scowled.

He really did not appreciate being drug around by a pre-teen; it was obvious. I shook of the weird feeling and grinning up at him, climbing to my feet.

"Wanna go ride the _Spider_ next?" I tried and failed to keep the excitement out of my voice. Waiting for them to get through had decimated my patience.

"Sure." James shrugged, looking like he didn't want to be here, hands buried in his _Capsule Corp._ hoody. I knew he got a secret thrill from wearing the merchandise, letting everyone know that he was big and bad and in charge without _letting them know._

I didn't give two cents about him not wanting to be here—not after the last month of staying after school twice a week so he can play with his multiple girlfriends.

The conductor doesn't look happy when we appear to get on the spider. He has two pods open, but he's just shut the gate and would have to bring that side of the machine down again for us to board it. James grins ferally and flashes his arm band. The odd orange of it, so opposite everyone else's dark green, catches his eye and he scowls, probably thinking it's a fake.

Dad had great fun in telling the Carnival staff—as President of Capsule Corporation—that both his successor and daughter would be coming. The ticket broker recognized us immediately from whatever description dad gave them, but the others would have to take note of our specialized arm bands.

Dad would have loved the expression on the Carney's face when he realized just who he was being rude to. I smiled angelically and waved mine as well. The man nearly killed himself trying to open the gate and get us on the machine—if I didn't have a conscience, I would have laughed. The poor man.

"Whoa!" Alex said from beside me, face lit up like a kid on Christmas. "How did you guys do that?"

James and Storm were in the other pod, grinning like lunatics. We were the farthest up in the air and the ride hadn't started yet—so of course, they were throwing their weight around and making it spin anyways. The poor Carney was probably having a heart attack.

Imagine what would happen to him if the heir to Capsule Corp, _the_ largest, richest and most influential company in the world died on his ride?

I snorted on the inside. Like there was any way in HFIL James would let himself die on an amusement park ride, my secrets be damned.

"I don't know, I guess he's just really dumb." Alex seemed to buy it anyways and laughed about the 'Stupid Carney'. Actually, he was a very smart Carney, but I let it go.

The ride started, and away we spun.

We rode twice, the Carney rushing over to let us off first and give us special treatment each time. Storm and Alex were baffled, Storm less so because she had some idea. Alex let it go, used to the world treating her like a princess.

Storm and I are often her humility, here only to remind her that she's no better than anyone else on the planet.

"What time is it?" Storm asked wearily, some time—and many rides—later.

"Skin thir—"James started. I cut him off, reaching in my pocket for my SIM. As discreetly as I could—I didn't want my best friends to see that it was a model not even on the market yet, specially designed for me (Alex probably thought I was ashamed of it for being old or something)—I checked the time and responded with a chipper,

"Ten thirty-two."

Storm groaned .

"My mom's probably waiting in the parking lot for me as we speak. Sorry guys, I gotta go."

"No!" Alex wailed instantly. "One more ride! Come on, I'll even ride the—" She gulped, not exaggerating her fear, "—Ferris Wheel with you, you haven't got to ride it yet."

Alexandria Shiver is, to my continued amusement throughout the years, afraid of heights. I can fly, my best friend is afraid of heights. It doesn't take Grandma Bulma to figure out where I find humor in that.

The Carney manning the Ferris Wheel didn't notice anything odd about our arm bands and just waved us through when we raised our forearms. We could have had construction paper wrapped around our wrists for all the attention he paid.

Alex took a deep breath and sat next to James, who for once didn't offer a rather pained expression. Storm rolled her eyes and we sat down across from them.

I took a deep breath as the ride started up, leaning back—and then we were rushing upwards through air. It was so… odd. I opened my eyes and found my brother's eyes.

He had the same look as I: slightly confused; a little uncomfortable.

Storm laughed at us, "What, haven't you two ever been on a Ferris Wheel before?"

No, no we haven't. But it was just… _weird_ to feel the wind, the air resisting as you moved through it, the curious sense of weightlessness, _while sitting down._ It was flying… but not flying.

Similar to getting an IV drip that makes your lower regions tingle as if you just used the restroom…. Only to find out that you hadn't. A kind of phantom sensation that's to off to think about.

And then, our car stopped with a sickening lurch forward that almost tipped James and Alex from their seats. He reach past her instantly, throwing a forearm across her torso and latching onto either side of the metal contraption with both hands.

Storm yelped, but I'd done the same thing. Nobody fell. I listened closely to confirm; nobody fell, from any cart.

"Mirai!" James gasped, worried for me though he shouldn't be. I was fine; he was fine. We were all fine. My heart was beating like a race horses, adrenaline and blood a loud mix in my ear. We were all fine.

Alex screamed, reacting an instant after we had. The metal _groaned_. We stopped—the ride just… stopped. It… broke. I blinked. Crap.

And we were right at the top.

Well, maybe they won't notice the hand prints we gouged into the metal, I thought wildly, slightly hysterical; but I couldn't count on that possibility. Not when we were trapped up here for who knows how long.

**Ok. I'll go back and fill in the blanks between September and Mid October all weekend, but I wrote this and I wanted to make an update. Don't worry, I'll fill in the holes. Bare with me. This is a sneak peek into the future. Will James' patience last, trapped at the top of an amusement park ride? Will he stay there for Mirai when they could both just as easily fly off?**

**[1] In fairs and carnivals where I live, the southern united states, you have to buy a button and pin it to your clothes to show that you paid your way in. They are usually very cheap, less than five dollars.**

**[2] In fairs or carnivals where I live, you can buy an arm band that is basically an 'all access pass' to every ride. They are more expensive than the individual tickets you can otherwise buy to ride each ride—Say, it costs four ticks to ride the Ferris Wheel. If you want to ride it 10 times that's 40 tickets/dollars. Easier just to buy a twenty-dollar arm band, huh? However, if you just want to walk around and visit the booths or buy food, then you don't have to buy either. So it works.**

**[3] On the dragonball wiki, it says that Toriyama said that a Zeni is equivalent to one yen, which strikes me as odd because the WMAT prize money would be a joke if that were so, but whatever. I'm going along with it. And a yen is less than a dollar in the US, for those of you who don't know. As such, 2000 yen/zeni is only actually less than 30 dollars. Don't freak. I did the math.**

**Review? (I get kind of tired of asking, but if you hate it I'd like to know why. Reviews make me update faster, by the way.) Opinions? Even flames are welcome, I roast marshmellows with them. **

**This was nearly five thousand words. **


	5. Fresh off the press, reviews?

Have you ever been so scared of the consequences of both doing something and not doing something, that you don't actually make a decision? You don't say 'yes' for fear of what that change will cause, but you can't say 'no' because you want to do it. Eventually, if you don't choose, you're saying no by default.

My entire life is kind of like that—saying 'no' by default.

It feels like my entire existence has been torn between being normal and being me, trying to walk both paths at once and failing miserably.

Suspended a hundred feet above the ground in a tiny, metal bowl, I had to choose. It felt like my entire life was leading up to this point—which is ridiculous, really, because I'm on a carnival ride. The scent of cotton candy and buttered popcorn wafted up to us, mixed grotesquely, cloyed in the air.

They're not supposed to _actually_ break. You hear about it all the time; people being afraid roller coasters will break down and the machinery will fail. But this is sponsored by _Capsule Corp._ Capsule Corp machines _don't_ fail.

Panic was tugging at my heartstrings as I looked fearfully from one best friend to the other. Maybe we could just sit up here until they fixed it? I flicked a glance at James. Even if he would go for it… Or maybe—

Once more the metal groaned and the car we were in tilted frighteningly. Alex latched onto James, terrified. Not the 'I'm-so-scared-HOLD-ME!' of teenage girls in movie theatres, but the true fear of someone who believes they're going to die.

I bit my lip, an old habit I thought I'd eschewed. More screams this time, some from on the ground. None of us dared move.

It felt like my entire existence was balanced precariously on the blade of a knife, like we were balanced at the very top of this infernal ride, and I was cutting myself trying to stay on, because I didn't want to fall on either side. Cutting yourself so you won't fall. Brilliant analogy, Mirai!

Storm was hyperventilating, but trying to stay calm; Alex was crying. My brother gave me a stern, lecturing look, one arm wrapped around her. It wasn't romantic; it was an on-instinct big brother thing.

"I can't." Even to me, my voice was cracked and hoarse. He glared.

"James, I can't!" My protests: weak to my own ears.

"So you're going to let them die?" _Die._ He's exaggerating. We're—well duh, we're not—_they're_ not going to die. I tried to tell him with my eyes that I wouldn't let that happen; my voice seemed to have gone on an extremely inconveniently timed vacation.

The metal groaned—the two of us looked up. My heart stuttered to a halt. The bars bonding us to the frame of the Ferris Wheel were splintered and giving out fast. I gulped and my heart kicked into overdrive, making up for lost time.

My mind whirred, a thousand thoughts a second. Panic was outweighed by a fierce sense of determination that sprung from nowhere—_I Will Not Let Them Die._

"Storm." She had her eyes closed, tight. My voice was a croak. I forced it to become clearer; had to keep my head. "Storm!"

"_What!"_ She snapped and when her eyes were revealed, they weren't a miserable grey, sad and accepting of her fate; her eyes were molten silver, angry in a way that screamed, "I don't want to die!"

The color helped me find my resolve. They weren't going to talk to me after this, but at least they'd be alive to talk.

"Trust me?" I asked, making sure my eyes held hers. She sucked in a deep breath and—ah, there's the panic. I knew what I was asking. Of all the things I could have asked for, _this_ was the hardest to give, from Storm.

And she knows I know that. She knows I know her past, what she's been through. The reminder of her gruesome childhood helped me, sickeningly enough. After all she's gone through; she deserves to get out of this alive. My petty worries about secrets and lies are _nothing_ compared to what happened to her and it was time to stop being selfish.

"Sure, why not." She tries for flippant. It doesn't work. I hear the catch in her voice; can almost hear the hysterical, "I'm going to die anyways, so why the fuck not?" in her thoughts.

Good enough. I don't even bother to ask Alex; I know that answer. And even if she doesn't trust _me,_ there's no way in hell she'd let go of James right now. I don't even think she's consciously aware of her surroundings at this point, too numbed by panic and terror.

Carefully, I stood up. The cart groaned once more, shuddered, but did not give way. Storm's eyes snapped wide.

"What the hell are you doing!" I didn't answer her, moving closer and grabbing her wrist. She didn't protest: she was too scared to move for fear of plummeting to her death. Not that I blame her, I thought—remarkably calm now that I've accepted the inevitable and determined to enjoy these last few instances of having her as my best friend—remembering when _I_ nearly fell to _mine._

I forced her to meet my eyes again, speaking slowly.

"You said you trusted me." And it was like a vow, a solemn promise; she glared but couldn't take it back once she'd said it. She gave that trust to me and it would break if I betrayed it. Which I was about to do, if she'd let me. Silent but angry, she let me hold her other wrist.

"Oh, are we allowed to use our powers now?" James asked, feigning surprise. I glared at him—now is _not _the time for sarcasm, you ass—as he stood casually, looking so over-confident I would have hit him if Alex hadn't beaten me to it.

"What are you doing? _What are you doing!_" She hit new octaves and James winced, wrapping his arms around her waist carefully; not a second too late.

Finally, the cart fell free from its holding and jerked once before screeching down to the earth. The millisecond before it did, I mimicked James as he tore power from his core and let it surround himself with a whitish glow.

The cart crashed to the ground. Its passengers didn't move an inch from their earlier positions. Alexandria was still screaming. Storm's heartbeat was so loud it was audible.

Over both of their heads, James caught my eye and tilted his head pointedly to a spare patch of grass like the one me and storm were waiting on earlier. A part of me died as I upped the ante. I ignored it pointedly, choking on a gasp as another part of me—just as potent—came alive with a feeling of wholeness and excitement like I'd never know.

It made my blood rush faster, my heart soar and just being in the air was suddenly not a miracle to me with my human thinking, but normal and natural because _I am not human._

All too soon, it was over. I dropped Storm to the ground and winced before touching down next to her. Her eyes flashed open the instant her feet touched solid ground, probably just then figuring out that she'd left it.

A thousand questions sprawled across her face behind slowly receding blind terror and I turned my back on her, unwilling to face it. What is she thinking? I blinked, stunned at the image that came into focus before me.

Alex was still very much attached to a disgruntled James, her arms clamped around his neck, legs wrapped around his middle so tightly her ankles crossed above his butt. The best part—confusion and humor battled it out in me, and humor won to such an extent that I was actually _smiling _as I beheld her—was, no contest, that she had her face buried in the crook of his neck and…

She was still screaming her head off.

I turned around by force of habit to share my amusement with Storm, forgetting our situation for the barest of seconds. To my extreme surprise and relief, she was fighting laughter. Her eyes met mine and for a second I couldn't hear Alex's insistent, terrified screaming. Her lips quirked upwards.

"Somebody _get her off of me!_" James exploded, Ki flaring slightly. He looked more frightened than Alex, which was hilarious in its own right.

Alex looked up and blinked stupidly. Seconds passed to silence, although it was no longer as tense as it was in the braking carnival contraption.

"Why aren't I falling to my death?" She asked, seeming genuinely perplexed.

"Because my sister would be mad at me if I dropped you off a cliff," James muttered angrily, "Though I'm starting to think it'd be worth it."

I cleared my throat loudly.

"Um, Al? You can let go of him now."

Alex looked at me curiously and then turned back to James. Their noses nearly touched. Her eyes widened in surprise before,

"Aaaaghhh!" She yelped, letting him go in all ways. She hit the ground with a weird _flump_ noise, yet bounced back to her feet before we could comment.

Her hair was messed up.

"I'm okay!" She assured us in a comically accented voice. Belated joy hit her, and she looked down at her body as if gob smacked.

"Hey!" She called excitedly. "I'm okay!" Brown eyes raked over her own 100% healthy body in happiness. "Wait." Her eyebrows drew together in childish confusion. She looked up at me, a little lost. "How am I okay? I shouldn't be okay; I should be dead. Am I dead? I don't feel dead."

All of this happened in about 15 seconds and James sighed grumpily before giving me a withering look.

"You know what? I don't need this." He ran a hand through just-shagged black hair before meeting my eyes again. "No, don't look at me like that! Mirai, you are my favorite little sister and I love you to pieces—No, really, I would die for you; on Namek, against Cell, you name it—but I'm not dealing with your teen drama. I already went through this when I told _my_ friends; all by myself, might I add. If I can do it, you can do it." And with that, he turned and walked off, hands buried deep in his jacket pockets...

Leaving me standing there, mouth gaping like a fish trying to form words: utterly flabbergasted.

When I got my bearings, he was already yards away, casually sauntering off like he owned the world. "You traitor!" I yelled after him. What kind of big brother leaves their kid sibling to handle something like this on their own?

He turned around with a big grin, blue eyes shining. He cupped his hands around his mouth and called back, "I believe in you, little sister!" before blurring into the crowd.

"Blood traitor!" I shouted and even with half-Saiyan hearing, only heard the barest traces of laughter from where he vanished.

Reality crashed down as I turned, frustrated, to my very confused friends. Or former friends, I should say. I took a deep breath before looking at their expressions. My heart sank; nothing I saw there told me they'd be willing to let this go any time soon.

"Going to fill us in?" Storm was looking angry now. I glanced downwards, guilty.

"Um, I was kind of hoping not to…"

Alex snorted.

"Like that'll happen."

"Can you blame me for trying?" I tried to pass it off as humorous, but it was a weak attempt. I was devoid of hope—had been, actually, from the moment I knew the compartment we'd been sitting in was going to detach. There was just no way for me to get out of this with my friendships intact.

I let my eyes scan the area.

"Come on," I decided grimly. I owe them the truth. "If I'm going to spill my deepest, darkest secrets… Well, I don't want to be overheard. I doubt you two'd want to be seen talking to me it got out how much of a freak I am." Even as I let the harsh word fall from my lips, I knew I was lying. Up in the air, when I was using my powers to save them, something had settled into place. Pride had taken hold where once only self-consciousness reigned. How could I be ashamed of something that let me save lives?

It was with a martyr complex that I turned around without another glance at my former friends and walked away, trusting that they'd follow.

It was properly cold now, mosquitoes buzzing around joyously. None of them bothered me, something I was usually proud of, but now they just further sank my spirits. I held a new respect for Saiyaman and Saiyagirl now, at least. Mind you, they're still _mad_ for dressing up and doing those ridiculous poses, I just understand their motive now.

It felt good to do… well, _good._ Saving Storm made me feel like a good person. Maybe I inherited some of Grandpa Goku's 'Hero Thing' after all.

I kept walking until I found a secluded enough place. One end of the fair was nearly deserted, the area where people had set up booths and small stands to sell various goods during the early hours, before the rides started.

I chose a secluded spot beneath a tree, cloaked in shadows slightly darker than the night around us, located behind one such abandoned booth with the usual white-tent "roof" [1] and sat down.

In this light, I could barely see them as they sat in front of me. And even though I kept trying to deny it, I was scared. Really scared. This was going to happen, and it was going to _hurt._

I drew in a shaky breath. Not being able to see Storm's glower made it more dangerous; for the first time, it was directed at me and I winced. Hopefully they couldn't see it.

"Well?" Storm demanded. Her mother is going to kill her; it's been probably a dozen minutes past time she should have left. She didn't seem to care.

"Uh… what do you want to know?" Even now, I tried to get out of it; even after I'd already accepted it as hopeless. I'm pathetic. Grandfather Vegeta would be ashamed of my cowardice. And so would James. I remembered something, but it was vague, like I was seeing it through a film—a dream. Alexandria and James getting off a roller coaster and James taunting me, **My friends already know. I trust them enough to tell them. **Right. Trust. I recalled how Storm trusted me—was it really only a minute or two ago?—with her life. Why didn't I trust them from the beginning?

I didn't have to see them to know that they were not amused at how I side stepped the question.

"How are we not dead?" Alex piped in, suspicious now. She was slower than Storm, not as quick to accuse. "What did you mean; earlier, when you said you were a freak?"

Well. That was a nice and tactful, unoffending way to put it. A small part of me recoiled in hurt; the Saiyan part smiled wryly at it; _Just wait_, it seemed to say, _if you think _that _hurt…_

Courage. Must have _courage._

"I am a freak." My voice was small. _So much for courage_, the Saiyan bit of me snorted. _Shut up_, I told it. _I_ told it; me. Half and half make one, after all. Instead of being half Saiyan all the time, or half human, it was about freaking time to find a happy medium.

"Wait," I said, before either could comment. My new resolution was strong. "I take it back. I'm not a freak. I can lift cars and fly, but that's completely normal in my family."

In retrospect? Yeah, I realize the mistake.

"Lift cars?" Storm sucked in a breath, at the exact same moment that Alex gasped, "Fly!"

What's the saying? In for a penny, in for a pound? But before I could drop any more bombs, they were both on me at the same time, speaking fast and loudly.

"—all this time, and you didn't tell—"

"—the fuck do you _mean_, you can lift—"

"—_realize _all the stuff we could've done?"

"Oh, and of course you're probably bullet proof, too—"

I sat and bared it, knowing I deserved the onslaught.

"There you are!" A new voice, one I didn't immediately recognize. I didn't think about it; I was on my feet with my back to my friends, shielding them in half a second. Before I'd even moved, my senses were on full alert, the sixth one stretching out in the immediate vicinity to search for the speaker's Ki signature.

I was rattled; completely shaken from the events. I didn't notice that the voice belonged to Storm's kid brother until he came into view, childish face illuminated in the flickering light. The entry-button pinned to his chest glinted metallically as he puffed it out, obviously proud of it.

Flickering…? Eyes wide, I quickly dispelled the floating orb of light above my palm. How out of it was I that I made a ki ball without trying? Unconsciously, without thought to who would see? Slower than me, the other two clambered to their feet as well.

The seven year old boy seemed unperturbed by the sudden disappearance of the light; he acted like he hadn't seen it at all, his light brown hair and soft pale skin dripping once more into shadow.

"Mommy sent me in to get you, big sister! Were you on that big ride that stopped working? There are still people getting off."

"Yeah." Storm's voice was cracked. She licked her lips, shot a nervous glance at me like she'd just remembered why we were here. "Yeah, I was on it. It scared me… I'm still scared."

Laughingly deciding to get on the Ferris Wheel seemed ages ago, made even more distant by where we were. This desolate, dark corner of the fair felt like a completely different place than where we'd been before. It was the complete opposite from the bustling crowds full of animated chatter and laughter, the glare of the street lamps marking everything in sharp relief.

"Well come on, silly! At least you weren't in that one passenger car that crashed down and went PWEW!" He mimed and explosions with his hands- complete with sound effects. Storm didn't have anything to say to that, gave me a look I couldn't read in the dimness, and walked away hand-in-hand with a still chattering Raine.

A pang went through me when I realized that was probably the last time I would see the little boy. Like Alex would let me sit there and ignore her for long, however.

She snapped her fingers in front of my face.

"You who!" She snapped, "Remember me?" On any other day, I would have looked at her funny for the pseudo-Spanish accent she put on. Today, I couldn't even bring myself to sigh. She didn't let me voice my response, 'How could I forget?' and continued, accent intact.

"I don't have to leave until—you know what? Actually," And she broke off mid sentence to yank out her SIM. Absently, I noted how primitive it looked compared to mine and felt ashamed. She dialed and my heart jumped into my chest; who was she calling? The media? The police?

Then thousand worries jumped into my head, quelled only for a moment when she said, "Hello? Dad?"

And then they kickstarted again, tumbling into new directions and multiplying like bunnies. I felt slightly nauseous, and not just because her voice took on the simpering tones of, 'Daddy's little girl'.

"Yeah, I know. Actually, you don't have to. You know my friend, Mirai? Yeah, Storm's friend, too—" My heart thudded painfully against my ribs at the word, 'friend.' I didn't deserve the title with all the lies I'd told them. A sick voice in my head was laughing, because Alex was clearly lying through her teeth. Calling me a 'friend'. Ha.

"—her parents are already here, do you think it'd be okay if I stay with them?" She met my eyes and I saw the challenge there. She was daring me to object. I nodded helplessly. "We don't have school tomorrow, and it'd be a shame for you to drive all the way up here…. No, her big brother is staying at a friends' house tonight, otherwise you know I wouldn't even ask you, Daddy…. Yeah, that's right, just us girls having a sleepover… Nope, we'd be leaving right now, probably in bed talking about ponies and puppies—" My turn to give her a strange look; my dads are both as straight as _rainbows_ and they wouldn't even believe that bullshit, was she serious? "—by eleven. Yup. Uhm-hum. I'll call you as soon as we wake up. I'll even stay over at her house until you get off work so I'm not at the house by myself. Come to think of it, we could study for Mrs. Nueville's art test together! No, no, of course I don't _need _ to study, but Mirai… Let's just say it'll do her more good than me. I know I'm a good friend! Yep, I love you too, daddy! Bye-bye!"

I gaped. She closed the SIM, looking pleased with herself. I gaped. She smirked. I gaped. She asked where I lived. I didn't hear her; I was too busy gaping.

"Mira!" I jumped out of my skin. "Stop staring at me! When are your parents getting here?" I squirmed a little, the lie on the tip of my tongue, before I remembered: All secrets out.

"They're not. I live in West City." It was her turn to gape, but I barely noticed; a colossal feeling was building up inside of me. She wanted to go to my house? What? She's supposed to hate me for lying to her!

"You… live… wha? That's seven hours away by jet! How the hell are we going to get there? On that note, how do you get to school every morning!" She was indignant and… dear gods… a little impressed.

I felt dizzy. Suddenly lightheaded, I had to reach a hand out and brace myself on the trunk of the tree to stay upright. What?

"I fly," I answered without thinking about it.

"No way there's a jet that fast." I didn't bother telling her that there was, that my grandma was Bulma Briefs and that the things she had under wraps in her lab would most _certainly_ be fast enough. The same sadistic part of me laughed again, wondering how Alex would react when she learned _that_ secret.

_Shut up._ I ordered it, letting my anger get the better of me. It retreated instantly, almost like it was never there. I caught my breath, closed my eyes and inhaled deeply before standing straight again.

"Did you forget how you're alive right now already? You think James _jumped_ you down from 100 feet up?" Her face drained of all color, I noticed in the light from her SIM, still glowing faintly even when closed. It provided more than enough light for a ½ Saiyan to see by.

"No, Al. We _flew_ you guys down. I _fly_ to school."

It was quiet for a bit. I shifted uncomfortably. Huh. Guess I'd better call Dad and get permission for her to spend the night, regardless. I brought out my own SIM, and tried and failed to cover up how it made Al's look like a kiddy toy. I failed because there's simply no hiding the hologram that popped up with its own artificial light.

"You need something, Mistress?" Bulma thought it was cute to make the face of all Mach 16 SIMs Truten's. I didn't have the heart to tell her that, while cute, it was highly disturbing for those of us who knew him and likely to ruin his life. Dad is still trying to convince her to change it to Pan's little robot friend before it comes out on the market; thankfully, the one I have is only a prototype of the line she designed with me in mind.

"Yeah, Tru—" I always have to stop myself from addressing the artificial intelligence as my little bro. You see what I mean about it being disconcerting? "—Yeah; Call Trunks Briefs." I tried to mutter it, but had the sneaking suspicion Alex heard me anyways. Hopefully she wouldn't recognize the name.

For the thousandth time, I wished Father could work out how to use one. They eluded him.

"As you will, Madam." Truten's face blurred out, replaced almost immediately by the see-through, miniature image of my Dad.

"Hello?" He asked, looking a tad worried. I almost never called him this late.

"Hey, dad, is it okay if I bring a friend home?" Said friend was watching with amazement as the little figure's face broke into a wide grin.

"Sure, baby, does she know?" I groaned at the choice of words. Now Alex's interest was double piqued.

"Yeah, I'm working on telling her everything. We're about done here, I just have to find James—"

Dad cut me off, "Find him? He left you alone?" Like I wasn't 13 and one of the top ten strongest fighters in the universe. The trust he has in me is freaking phenomenal, really.

"He went to the bathroom." I said flatly, warning him that'd I was fully prepared to argue about being alone for five minutes. He rose a lavender—not that you could tell in the hologram—eyebrow at that, but let it go. "Anyways, we're about to grab James and fly home. Just wanted to make sure it was okay with you if I brought Alex along."

"Yeah, it's fine. I'll go warn your little brother to behave himself. I love you."

"I love you too. Bye." The image faded to nothing. The glow of the SIM died and I re-placed it in my pocket. Everything was twice as dark in comparison.

I looked at Alex in the near pitch-blackness, waiting for the first volley of questions. Instead, I got a groan.

"Ugh, can't you do that light thingy again? I don't like being blind, it's really creepy out here away from everybody else." I blinked in surprise. Never, in my wildest dreams, had I ever imagined Alexandria Shiver to _ask_ me to make an energy ball.

I held out my right hand between us and complied. A slight tug at my centre and then—light, bright white and as toned down danger-wise as far as I could get it. I thought for a second and then nodded to myself, willing the sphere to float upwards. It took a bit of concentration, but hovered above our heads well enough.

Directing ki blasts and energy beams? Easy. Making them stay still away from my hand? Well, let's just say I hadn't been sure it would work until it did.

"Wow." Alex murmured, staring. Unbelievable. She was going all, 'prettyprettyshinyshiny' on me.

"I'm almost 85% sure I can teach you how to do it, if you're that fascinated." I snapped, or rather—I meant to. The offer came out almost vulnerable sounding, soft and unsure. I'm not sure who was more shocked: her or me.

"Really?" Alex reached up a hand and pulled a lock of brilliantly crimson hair behind her ear. I could tell that she was trying to think of questions, yet the sheer number her brain was coming up with was disorientating.

"If you want… We can wait till we get to my house, and I'll start from the beginning." I bit my lip, cursing myself for offering when—

"Sure." Alex breathed faintly, glancing up at the orb like she couldn't believe it. Light cascaded down, lighting up her up-turned face. It glowed in the light, her hair transformed into fiery wisps. She looked enamored. The spell broke as suddenly as it came over her, and then she was grinning impishly at me, taking me by surprise.

"So you really live in West City?"

I'm not ashamed to admit it: the mischievous, familiar glint in her eyes scared the pants off me.

"Yes…" I answered, immediately wary.

"And you can really fly?" Her voice came out faster and if I thought the glint was scary, this mounting excitement was utterly terrifying.

"Yes…" Suspicion growing…

"That's so… sick!" Oh, dear gods. Dende, Kami, King Kai… She thinks it's cool. She thinks it's _cool_. My body was going weird on me, emotions whipping around like a hurricane. I wasn't sure if I was scared or happy or nervous… It kind of seemed like all three at once. Apprehensive?

Apprehensive is a good word for it. She made me apprehensive, with that evil glint and escaped-convict grin. The last time I saw this look was when she convinced me it would be a good idea to take her dad's motorcycle out for a spin when he was at work, one time while I was at her house.

That was the first day I found out she was as much as an adrenaline junkie as I was. It was not a good experience, nor a happy revelation. We both almost died, but does she see it that way? Nooo, it was such a good adventure, and oh my gods she can't _believe_ we got away with it without getting caught.

"Andwe'regoingtoflytoyourhouse?Now?" Once I'd worked that one out, I wanted to smack myself.

Oh, dear Dende. Why? A thought occurred to me, a marvelous, marvelous thought.

"You're afraid of heights." I blurted tactlessly. Her face fell. The grin dissolved. The glint almost faded completely.

"Well, damn. There went all my plans." She started to look scared now.

"What, you think I'll drop you?" I tried to get her to laugh; it backfired. She looked aghast.

"What? You? But… I assumed… thought… James… he…" She was trying to form a sentence and failing rather spectacularly. I lifted an eyebrow and pointed at my chest for emphasis.

"Can lift cars, remember?" She looked instantly curious again.

"I thought you were joking about that! You don't look like you could lift me, much less a…" The fear was back; this time it was funny. I was smirking at her.

"But… But… You are so scrawny… And failed gym class..."

"Shut up! It was one year, and I could've aced it if I wanted to. Besides, the coach had it out for me."

"Sure he did." I stuck my tongue out at her clear sarcasm.

A new thought occurred to her, and I watched in the fluctuating light as it danced across her face.

"How are we even going to _find_ James in all this mess?" She asked. I grinned.

"Oh, that's the easy part. Check this out." The part of me that was constantly afraid of rejection eared it's ugly head, but… She thought flying and energy balls were cool so… dare I hope? I looked up, saw her waiting expectantly with baited breath and took confidence from it.

I flared my ki, uncapping it easily and letting it rise. Once, twice. Not three times. Never three times. Three times is danger. Three times is Z-fighter 9-1-1, I'm-in-danger, I'm-about-to-die. I learned the hard way as a kid that you don't use _that_ signal unless you were really screwed, like: Cell's back! Screwed.

It's the hypothetical, 'call all contacts' button labeled on your phone as IYD. _If you're dying. _And _only_ if you're dying.

Alex waited. I opened my eyes. She looked uncomfortable.

"Um… Was something supposed to happen?"

"Just wait." I told her and sat down. She shrugged and joined me on the grass.

The weariness of the day was catching up to me. When had I last ate? Lunch? That seemed like forever ago now. I couldn't wait until we got home; surely Father would have food for us, Dad would tell him and…

"You call?" Alex jumped out of her skin, but I'd felt him coming without really paying attention. Unconscious stalker Saiyan instincts, go!

Alex stared, astounded. Her gaze went from me and James like I'd just done the best magic trick she'd ever seen. In a way, I had. What? I asked silently, grinning at her. You can accept flying without missing a beat, yet gape at telepathy?

Of course, it wasn't telepathy, but she didn't know that. She caught the meaning in my look and pouted, crossing her arms across her generous bust.

"Yeah, you ready to go? Father's probably getting dinner ready as we speak."

"Sure. I'm starving." He didn't comment on Alex's presence at first, keeping it low-key. I nodded to myself. She could talk about flying casually… Would she freak out for real once we were in the air? I bit my lip, motioning for her to come closer.

She stepped forwards instantly; I don't think she realized the sheer level of trust she was putting in me by that action alone. What did I do to deserve her?

James' eyes widened, which I got inappropriate levels of satisfaction from. I shot him a challenging look, we he scowled at. I was ecstatic. He really didn't think I'd tell them everything.

Proved you wrong, there, didn't I, Bro?

"How do you want to do this?" I asked the red-head seriously. She looked me over thoughtfully, still fully in doubt that I could pick her up. Clearly, she was considering every position. I blinked. Dende, this just turned perverted. I blushed a little; nobody noticed.

"Well.." She spoke carefully. "If you're as strong as you say, I guess we should do it Superman style…" Again: horrible, perverted thoughts. I hate being a teenager. She was hesitating though, doubts apparent in her voice.

I moved faster than she could see, sweeping one arm lightly—by our standards, at least—against the back of her knees. She fell backwards with a gasp, and I threw my other arm under her shoulders just in time to catch her.

Ignored by both of us, James was laughing at the move. He knew I could have had her in my arms before she even realized she was moving, and that I'd chosen not to just to scare her. A brilliant joke, in his opinion.

With an embarrassing squeak-eep love child-like sound, she threw her arms around my neck. I grinned at this.

"Still scrawny?" I questioned haughtily. She felt feather light in my arms. I'm sure it looked awkward enough, what with her being _bigger_ than me. Really though, it wasn't even a challenge. She weighed what? 140? And I'm 115? I can go 100x Earth's gravity in Grandpa's GR [2], so unless she's harboring a baby whale in her pocket by way of undetectable extension charm… [3] Nope, even then, I'd be good.

"Still scrawny," she confirmed, trying not to look nervous about what was about to happen.

As abruptly as I could, without letting her psych herself out before we even got moving, I launched into the air. It was so fast and sudden that James was left in the dust.

Alexandria screamed—of course, the wind tore the sound away before we could hear it—as I rocketed us up to about as high as I dared take us before shooting horizontal at about 90 miles per hour. Alex ducked her head into my chest, hair whipping almost violently.

For a second, I was worried it was too much for her, but she didn't scream again so…

It took us an hour and a half to get there, and by the end of it—and I mean, the _end_ of it, once Alex realized I wasn't going to drop her and we were nearly in my _yard_—she even opened her eyes. Granted, we'd slowed down to almost butterfly speed, but still…

She opened her eyes.

**Okay, Bitches! That's right! The first chapter had 1k words, the second chapter had two, and so on until the fourth chapter's 4k words, but the fifth… oh yes, the fifth has SIX THOUSAND WORDS, not even counting this authors note. Anyway, what do you guys think? And yes, I fully plan on going back and filling in the Lost Time, but I couldn't leave it on a cliff hanger. You guys… just don't even know. I **_**slaved **_**over this. Slaved. I hope it meets your expectations.**

**Dare I ask for reviews?**

**[1] Oh, you guys know what I'm talking about. Who hasn't been to a fair without the tables set up under the white pavilion-style tent roof things? Well, I haven't. And there's about fifty of them in my tiny little southern town, so in a place like Satan City… It stands to reason it'd be isolated enough with no one there.**

**[2] In the episode where chibi trunks first turns Super (Yes, I checked) the gravity is up 150x Earth's gravity. So I thought I reasonable for Mirai to max out at 100. Considering her dad could do it when he was eight. Anyways,**

**[3] Ok, ok, you caught me. Harry potter reference. I don't think Harry Potter's going to be real in my fic like Marvel, but I couldn't help it. Really, I couldn't. I don't know how much baby whales weigh, of course. I was just guessing. So, since I SLAVED over this—it's my baby—can I have opinions?**

**Whew. Finally finished. Dear gods, 14 pages. It feels like more than that… Oh well. Here we go. Time to publish. I got this.**

**And by the way? I'd like to thank my two reviewers and flip off all of the people who added this story to story alert without dropping a single, "I liked it, please update" But don't take it personally. I'm glad you read it and enjoyed it and everything but… You guys suck. Hope this pleases everybody, reviewers or not!**

**I aim to please.**

**EDIT- I mean 3 reviewers. I didn't see the last one until I'd finished writing this. Thanks, Rae! I'd like the rest of the people reading this to know that Alex is based off of her- almost completely. And Alex is such a good friend because Rachel is. I'm done now. Lol.  
**


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